Mandy Goes To Confession

This is a sequel to Mandy's Pantyless Adventure and Mandy's Cemetery Adventure. The stories are about two new college graduates, Paul D'Amato and Miranda Grossman, who have met and started an affair in the summer of 1977. The male narrator is the same guy as in "The My Summer with Nora" series, most of which takes place three years earlier.

He has just graduated from City College while she is from Lehman College, both of which are branches of the City University of New York. They live a couple of miles from each other in the North Bronx. In this story, she has just returned from an out-of-town trip.

Vivian is Mandy's roommate and lover from before she met Paul, although she already knew Mandy platonically at Lehman. Vivian knew about her roommate's new boyfriend because he's been to the apartment a number of times. However, he was never told what was going on between the two women, although he has some suspicions.

In any case, Vivian initiated her own affair with Paul when Mandy was on that trip.

***********

Mandy's Plan

Miranda had only been back for a few days when she revealed her plan for a new sexual escapade. We were sitting in a coffee shop when she brought up the topic.

"Remember how I proposed that we do something wild in a church? That was over ten days ago."

By that point, I paid attention to whatever she had invented because I knew that she might indeed make it happen. "Okay, I remember that."

"What I had been considering was having sex, or at least sexual activity, it the Confessional of a Catholic Church while a Mass was actually taking place."

Why did I have to have this girlfriend with such an overabundance of imagination? She detected some skepticism in me and she said, "Oh come on, everything else I've come up with so far has worked perfectly."

"Indeed it has. But his is way, way too much. I really doubt we'd be able to pull it off." Yet, as a lapsed Catholic, the whole idea did have a certain appeal to me.

She seemed miffed for a moment, but not for long. She had already created a backup plan. "There's another variation I have. It won't be during a Mass, but you'll go into the priest's both and then I'll go into the side booth and pretend to be a penitent."

I blurted out, "But you're Jewish."

"So I converted! Besides, I know the part of the ritual I'll have to do -- 'bless me, Father, for I have sinned,' and so forth. And of course, you'll play the part of the priest."

"And do you have a church in mind for this?"

"It should be in the biggest church we can find, which would probably be St. Nicholas of Tolentine on University Avenue." That was on the southwest corner of Fordham Road. I had never been in it, but it was indeed huge. It went through an entire block to the avenue on the far side.

I joked, "Why not St. Patrick's Cathedral?" Mandy frowned at me. "I was pulling your leg."

She said, "Then we should go over there and scout it out. You've got time this afternoon?"

It was now a Saturday, "Yeah, what the hell, let's have a look."

"Great! It should only take us about thirty minutes to get there, if that."

On the bus ride over there, I thought briefly about my other, secret girlfriend, Vivian. She was Mandy's roommate and I suspected she was also her lover. I hadn't seen Vivian since Mandy had returned, and I wondered where I stood with her. Was our thing together perhaps a mere fling?

It all seemed pretty complicated.

*****

Back then churches were usually open during the day, and we were able to just walk in. Mandy was casually dressed in blue jeans, a short-sleeved blouse, and sneakers. She was a tall, well-built girl with dark-blonde hair down to her chin. That was a bit on the short side for the 1970s.

Overall, I was pleased with my recently-acquired girlfriend, especially since I had lost the previous one only in June. I hadn't expected to meet a new one so soon.

She church has been built in 1907, and it was indeed impressive. It had to be about three times the size of my old parish, Holy Spirit, which was a couple of miles south on University. Fortunately, the place was nearly empty when we went there.

Mandy and I examined the four wooden confessionals in the back near the entrances. They had the usual layout used by the Catholic Church. The priest sat in his little booth in the middle, while two parishioners knelt in the compartments on either side of him. One person would have to wait while the other one had his or her turn to repent their sins.

St. Nicholas had more elaborately designed confessionals than the ones I was used to. The priest had a door with a glass window for his space, and the side sections also had such doors. At Holy Spirit, the lay people only had curtains.

I said, "Well, this is the key thing; let's see if these doors are locked or not." If they were...

Before I did anything, I looked around the huge interior. Only a handful of people were in the pews far to the front. I tried the three doors on one set, and they all opened readily. Just to be sure, I went to an adjacent set of booths to check on those.

I looked around inside them, and the set-up reminded me of the ones I had seen before.

There was a grill-work panel connecting the sections so that people could be anonymous when speaking to the priest. Of course, everyone knew who he was because he slid his nameplate into place on the door each time he was in there. I remembered that it was a good way to avoid the more grumpy or judgmental clergymen.

The priest's side had a chair, as I expected, and a small table lamp. I remembered from my own confession-going days that such lights were rarely if ever turned on.

The parishioner's side merely had a small stool to kneel on. A major difference from Holy Spirit was that the doors on both sides had those windows as I mentioned. Those were covered with curtains.

Some light came through the cloth, either from natural daylight or the interior lights of the church. Thus each side had a more light than the near-total darkness I knew from my old church.

When I finished my perusal, Mandy said, "So, looks pretty good, right?"

"Better than I had expected, probably, but it depends on what we intend to pull off in here."

"Let's go to the park across the street and we'll talk about it."

*******

We bought sodas from a vendor and went across Fordham Road to sit on a bench in Devoe Park. It was a lovely sunny day in mid-October. Mandy said, "So it's been a while since you've been to Confession."

"We've talked about that before. I didn't want to tell them anything about myself and I eventually stopped going. I kept attending Mass for a while longer to placate my parents. So, what have you got planned for us?"

"It's mostly going to be a surprise for you. The basic idea is that you'll be sitting in the priest's side and I'll come in to say my confession. Then things will get more than a bit wild, as you'll find out."

I said, "There is something implausible about this. In a real Confession, there will be other penitents waiting in line for your place. There is no time limit, of course, but it has to be completed in some reasonable time frame."

"Haven't you ever heard the term 'suspension of disbelief?' Of course, it's not going to be totally realistic."

"Also, I'm guessing that at some point I'm supposed to go over to your side or you'll come over to mine, correct? The other people out there would see that."

"That's another thing we'll just ignore. That's the nature of role playing."

"This one sounds like more of a stretch than I had expected. Also, in real life, somebody in the church may see us going in and out of the booths."

"Just act like you belong there; that's always a good strategy for tricky situations like this. And we'll be dressed well too, which always makes for added credibility." She went on, "Do they still teach that bit about how the Jews killed Jesus?"

"That wasn't discussed any longer when I was going to religious instructions myself. Even the hated Protestants and their Reformation were no longer mentioned. In any case, Jesus was a Jew himself."

"Not for long. He had to go start his own religion and name it after himself."

I had to laugh at that. "Ah, Mandy, that is a bit of an oversimplification."

Then she asked me, "So which sexual activities are mortal sins? Like, how about masturbation, for example?"

"I've heard that there are these guides to Confession, but I've seen one. I'd guess that masturbation is mortal, although I'm not sure. Merely looking at porn without touching is likely venial, while thinking about looking might be a so-called near-occasion of sin."

"So what is looking at a pretty backside considered then?" She stood up and wiggled the tightly-packed seat of her jeans at me. On impulse, I gave her a good slap on her behind.

"Oh! You must think I'm a really bad girl."

As she sat down, I said, "I don't just think it, I know it. Anyway, since you asked, just looking at you might be a near-occasion of sin, while whacking you, even once, might be venial."

"Discuss it with a priest."

"Yeah, like I'd ever do that."

She replied, "I just love seducing good Catholic boys and turning them into sinners."

"It's a bit late to worry about that; I've been on that track for a while now. I guess I'm going to Hell."

"And for venial sins, you only go to Purgatory for a while. What is that supposed to be like?"

I replied, "As usual, it's kind of vague. I always thought of it as Hell-Lite." I remembered something else. "Dante had the Lustful fairly high up in Hades, almost at the top. I guess he thought there were a lot of worse things than that."

"Nevertheless, they were still in Hell forever."

"I always thought that two categories of sins were too narrow. There should be four or five gradations in the middle."

"I guess they don't have a suggestion box for that kind of thing."

"So, can you give me at least an outline of what we're going to be doing at that church?"

"I guess I didn't make that clear enough. On the appointed day, you go in first and sit in the priest's booth. Then, a couple of minutes later, I'll come in and kneel in the other side. We'll meet outside first in to confirm that we have both arrived."

"So you are going to confess your sins to me?"

"That's part of it, sure, but that's only the beginning. You're going to love this whole thing, I can guarantee it."

"If we don't get caught first."

"You worry too much. Have I steered you wrong yet? By the way, Vivian always said that she hated confession, and she thought of ways to avoid going if she could, just like you did."

I suddenly felt a pang about my pale, sweet Vivian. I didn't know what was going on with her. Those Ottoman Sultans had harems with dozens of women. Why couldn't I have just two for myself?

******

Mandy Confesses

We decided on early Tuesday afternoon for our little escapade at St. Nicholas. We met outside the building, a little off to the south so that no one would associate us with the church itself.

Mandy had instructed me to dress up, including my one good gray sport coat. However, she had also told me to wear a dark sweater, actually a sort of sweatshirt, over a dress shirt but no necktie.

While we were there, she fitted me with a white handkerchief tucked into my shirts that was supposed to represent a priest's white collar. It was a fair approximation at best, but Mandy liked the effect. "There, you really are Father D'Amato now, and you're going to be quite a naughty clergyman when I get finished with you."

Mandy herself was dressed in a blue blazer, a dress that came down just above her knees, tan stockings, and black shoes. I wondered what kind of underthings she had on. Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised if she had a garter and straps to hold up her stockings. Any panties over those? I supposed I would find out soon enough.

To top it off, she had a white brimmed hat with a dark band around it. I commented, "I really like your church-lady hat."

"Why, thank you! I feel I should always be a little dressy when going to church, even for confession."

"So, what do you want me to do in there?"

"Just go in the left side entrance, and then go it the first priest's booth on the right. Side down in there and get comfortable. Then in a couple of minutes, I'll come in and kneel in the parishioner's side."

"Okay, then what?"

"I have an outline of what I want to do, so let me get things rolling. Just respond as you see fit. Use your imagination about it; you're been to Confession yourself while I have not."

"We should keep our voices down, however."

"Of course, we need to be fairly quiet about it."

I had an inkling of what kind of sins she was going to confess to; surely they had to be of a sexual nature. That was the whole point of this exercise. I knew she would initiate whatever actions that were needed to bring this to a climax -- well, yes, pun intended. I figured both of us would have climaxes; that would be the natural conclusion of this little drama.

I felt a bit sheepish going up the church steps in my half-convincing priest's collar, but no one was in the vestibule. Inside, the church interior was quiet too.

Following Mandy's recommendation, I tried to act like I simply belonged there. I briskly walked to the priest's door, opened it, and went in. With the curtain on the window drawn, it was a bit dark in there but I could still see the interior fairly well.

For a few minutes, I sat there and tried to ponder what the experiences of a priest would be like during that sacrament. At my old parish, each Saturday afternoon, there usually had been a steady stream of penitents waiting to enter each side compartment.

I wondered if the priests ever heard any good, spicy stories during those sessions, or whether it got boring sitting there all afternoon.

Then I heard the door to the booth on my left open, and somebody came in and knelt on the bench next to my wall. It had to be Mandy because no one else would come in there on a Tuesday. I slid the little door on the wall open, but I couldn't see anything through the grill.

Being unable to remember the protocol, I simply said, "Good afternoon."

Mandy responded, "Good afternoon. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned; it's been six weeks since my last confession." I felt my first desire for my unseen lover on the other side of the wall. Yeah, baby, you've sinned alright, and I've been there to enjoy it all.

There was a slight hesitation on her part, and then she said, "I'm sorry, Father, this is a little bit difficult for me to talk about."

That was my cue to improvise something, and I guess I did a fair job of it. "You don't have to worry, you can trust me. Everything you say in here is completely confidential."

"Okay, let me start with this. I've been having all kinds of thoughts, really bad thoughts."

"What kind of thoughts exactly?"

"Well, I admit, lustful thoughts, like about my boyfriend. I want to say this about him, he's a good Catholic boy and he treats me with respect."

"So that's not a problem, then."

"Mostly, I'd say, but we do make out at the times, I mean hugging and kissing. I'm not sure if that is a sin or not; what do you think?"

That was when a guide to Confession would have been handy to have, but I had no idea of how to get one. Her activities sounded venial to me at worst, but I was just guessing. Maybe the whole Catholic Church was guessing. I went with something suitably vague, "I wouldn't say it's a sin per se."

"To be honest, it goes a little beyond that at times. Do you know what petting is, Father?"

"Yes, I've heard of it."

"As I said, he's a decent guy, but like all guys I suppose, he can get a bit fresh with me. And I let him get away with some of it."

It seemed like I had the authority to ask about some juicier details. "What exactly does he do?"

I heard her sigh, "This is one of the things that's hard to talk about. He may, for example, during our make-out sessions, rub my bosom through my blouse. A couple of times, he tried to grab my behind, but I swatted him away."

"That's good, I mean setting boundaries when he goes too far."

"But Father, here's the thing. I don't want you to think I'm 'fast' or something, but in my mind, I liked what he was doing and imagined him doing more."

I amused myself for a moment remembering my real-life first meeting with Mandy. Within an hour, I was having some rather kinky sex with her. And that was happening in the back room of a movie theater where I worked as an usher. Yeah, Mandy, you're pretty fast all right.

I was about to ask her what more she wished him to do, but she continued on her own initiative, "I'm ashamed of this, but when he touches me or when I think about it later, there are physical changes in me, within my body. Father, do you know anything about female anatomy and the facts of a woman's arousal -- sexual arousal in other words?"

That was pretty heady stuff. "I have heard a few parishioners allude to that in confession." It seemed plausible that some female penitents would wish to bring up the topic.

"Father, one of the things that happens to me is that my nipples stiffen. I can feel them pushing against the inside of my brassiere." I was aware that Mandy was enjoying talking about her own reactions. "And something else happens. I mean, I get damp, wet even, in my private parts. I can feel the moisture seeping into my underpants. You do know what that's about, right?"

I was aware of a tightness in my throat. "Why don't you spell it out for me?"

"Well, I know the reason. It's how a woman lubricates her genitals so that a man's penis can easily slide into her."

That was extremely blunt. By that point, I had an erection, a very big and insistent one. Mandy wasn't a slender girl, and I could clearly imagine her round thighs and buttocks. I assumed, hoped really, that I was going to see them before that Confession was over. Or maybe she just planned on teasing me mercilessly.

She had to ask me, "So Father, is all that a sin?"

"That's a little hard to say." She was on that fuzzy boundary between a venial sin and a mere near-occasion of sin. "Perhaps it depends on whether you deliberately induce these events -- I mean in your body -- through your thoughts, or if they are basically involuntary."

I had made a hash out of whatever I was trying to say, but that didn't slow her down.

"There's more I do, very bad things, but I can't stop myself. When I get those feelings, and I get the chance, well -- I fondle myself. Let me be honest, I masturbate in other words. And I do that a lot. I admit it's a relief to release those tensions through an orgasm."

Did women really reveal such events in Confession? All I said was, "Oh, really?"

That seemed pretty lame, but she was gaining momentum. "I try to control myself, but then the next thing I know my hands are inside my panties and I'm having my way with myself."

"So where does this happen?"

"A lot of times in my bed at night, but elsewhere if I can. I've done it in ladies' rooms, although I have to keep my voice down in those. And I've even done in parks, like Van Cortlandt, if I happen to be wearing a skirt. I guess you're curious about what I think about?"

She was setting up my lines for me. "I expect that would be helpful for me to know." I was getting ever more aroused hearing that disembodied voice telling me about her secret thoughts and actions.

I heard Mandy giggling over on her side. "Okay, here goes, I might as well you everything since I've already gone this far. One of the things I've pictured is opening up my boyfriend's pants and taking his manhood out, if you know what I mean, and then stroking his shaft until he reaches his climax." She laughed, "I admit, I've never seen it, but I'd like to know what it looks like when a man ejaculates."